Shadowbrook Farm

The memories they drive at me like spears. I shake my head and try to get back to my work concentrating on the white sheet of paper lying on my desk. The numbers start to blur as the tears begin to burn my eyes, straining to pour over the rims of my eyelids. Swallowing hard and mentally chastising myself I try once more to focus on the numbers. The memories will have to wait until my head touches the pillow tonight and the nightmares once again are filled with pain and fear.

My office is situated next to the main house, a small unexciting single room with its own entrance and a view of the gardens. A pathway of big oak trees connects my office to the stables and coffee shop obscured by the fence that blocks visitors from the main house.

“Skye, do you have the budget ready for this coming year?” Mr Adriaan Fink suddenly appears at the doorway.

“Yes, Mr Fink, I have them ready for you,” I reply, after jumping slightly on the swivel office chair.

“Are you alright?” He frowns at me, looking concerned at my reaction.

“You just startled me, I am fine thank you,” I say trying to hide the fact that I did not hear him approach the office and he had nearly scared me to death. His body fills the frame of the doorway and the sharp light from the garden has made his silhouette appear ominous for a second, startling me.

Adriaan stands looking at me from behind his bifocals which precariously lie tilted on the edge of his bulbous nose. His dark brown eyes quietly assess me and his mouth is drawn into a thin line under his dark moustache, accentuating the wrinkles that have formed at the base of his lower lip.

As he walks toward my desk the fluorescent light of the office reveals he is wearing the familiar dark green polo shirt with the Shadowbrook Stud farm logo embroided in gold thread on his right breast pocket. Standing next to my desk with his hands in his cargo pants he picks up the yellow file marked “Budget” on the front of it and lightly skims through it.

“Can we meet at the coffee shop in half an hour before you leave this afternoon to discuss the budget for this coming year,” he says distractedly. I nod and can see that he is not in the mood to chat today and has a lot on his mind. He places the file back down on my desk and pats it lightly with his hand. “We should get you an air conditioner as it is so hot in this office,” he says wiping his brow as the beads of midday sweat start to trickle down his face. Before I can answer he has already disappeared through the doorway and leaves me to sit in the suffocating heat of my small office.

The humidity of February has pressed down on the Natal Midlands with full force making the air is so thick that I feel like I am gasping to breathe. I hope he gets me that air conditioner soon else I will be forced to work outside in the garden under the shade of the big oak trees or better yet, perhaps I could work at a table on the patio of the coffee shop where I can get some fresh air and glasses of iced tea to cool me down.

Turning back to my notebook, I finish preparing the excel spreadsheet and make printouts for the meeting with my bosses. This year’s budget would be particularly meaningful as the stables, horses and coffee shop need a revamp after this recession. I suppose that is why Adriaan is so distracted at present. With the paperwork neatly tucked into the budget folder, I lock up the office and make my way to the coffee shop.

Walking through the avenue of trees, I feel the tranquility of the shadows settling over me. It has become a special place to me, a haven from all the chaos. I remember the first time I saw Shadowbrook farm amongst the winding roads of the “thousand hill valley”, hiding behind the avenue of tall oak trees and the sunlight twinkling between their leaves. The farm was one of the many equestrian farms situated in the Natal Midlands, known for its studs and its horse racing.

I did not know anything about horses or horse racing at the time of my interview, but I still applied for the part-time bookkeeper job. It was such a relief when Mr Fink skyped me to say he had accepted my job application. I have never regretted the decision to accept the position.

After working for a year at the farm, I was now also working for Mrs Fink, Cybil, who ran an online store selling products to the equestrian community. She used to work at the Natal Playhouse theatre designing costumes for their plays. When she lost her job due to a restructuring of BEE status she started her own online store, designing clothes for Jockey’s. She had such success with her online sales through her website that she had decided to expand her products to include equestrian apparel. Cybil managed her five seamstresses and at present was busy working on costumes for the Durban July Fashion Awards. I was expecting her to be at the meeting and had brought the file with her budgets.

As I made my way around the stables I bumped straight into Stephan Bosman, and nearly fell backwards, except that he managed to catch me by my arms and I landed up plastered against him with the files wedged between us.

“Oops, that was a close call. Can you imagine if all those papers from your files went flying in the air,” he says laughing down at me. Awkwardly I try to grab the files, trying not to look like I am groping him and this makes him laugh even more. “Don’t worry you can touch me on my studio,” he says and we both start laughing. I guess that joke never gets old.

“I am so sorry Stephan, I didn’t see you,” I say looking at his stained green apron and black gum boots he wears when he comes to check up on the horses. He is wearing long plastic gloves which reach up to his shoulders and I am wondering where his hands have been just before he touched me. I tried not to think about it.

“Yes I am so hard to miss in this outfit,” Stephan jokes and holds up his hands as if I should be arresting him. His head is partially covered by a matching green hat which makes him look like he is about to perform surgery. Those pale blue eyes laugh at me with his arrow like nose pointing down to emphasis his big broad engaging smile. His square chin angles up to his ears which are mostly covered by his blonde hair which lies haphazardly along the top of his broad shoulders and tall athletic frame, useful assets when dealing with such big farm animals.

“No comment, I won’t tell Cybil that you want to enter the Fashion Competition at the races this year, she would be horrified,” I say trying to show the disgust in my face but failing to arrange my facial muscles into a grimace.

“Aww come here and give me a big hug, you sissy,” he says to me and tries to draw me into a bear hug. I manage to evade him and run down the pathway. “Hey, don’t forget it’s my turn to make supper tonight, I expect you to be there at six o’clock and don’t get lost okay,” he says laughing at me, knowing that I only have to walk a few steps from the cottage to his house.

“Yes, don’t forget to lose the gloves Mr Vet,” I say and gesture by drawing a line above my head indicating our old joke of him always being up to his head in crap, especially with Mr Finks daughter. Terry is a real piece of work. I try to stay out of her way as much as I can. I think her name is short for “Bull Terrier”. Her bark was as bad as her bite.

I was glad I wasn’t living on Shadowbrook even though I had been offered a room in the groom’s quarters. It was better to be living on the adjacent farm on Stephans property. He rented out one of the cottages to me so it meant I could have some privacy and a break from my job. I enjoyed meeting the various interns that stayed on Stephans farm. His practice was growing and many of the stud farms in the area were using him as their local vet. The paddocks were filled with various animals who needed medical attention and sometimes in my free time he would let me help hi m out with the horses.

I had once seen him facing off with an intimidating injured bull. Stephan wasn’t scared of anything. He earned my respect after that encounter and I have felt safe living on his farm ever since that day. That memory makes me smile and shake my head. What a brilliant performance.

The smell of coffee wafts up to my nose and scents the air like perfume. The signboard hanging from the rafter welcomes me into the shop which is starting to fill up with the regular lunch crowd. The whitewashed wooden counter displays the muffins and cakes in their big glass bell jars, making my mouth water as I haven’t had lunch yet.

Against the walls, the black and white photos are neatly framed in groups, displaying some of the history of the farm. My favorite photo was on the other side of the room. It was the one of Black Diamond, the stallion that won the Durban July in 2001. His proud stance and shiny velvety black coat had made me fall in love with horses.

Below his photo the shelves are filled with little bite size milk tarts and lemon meringue pies. The coconut ices with their pink bottoms and white tops are stacked up in their white Styrofoam and cellophane packaging. As I weave through the tables and chairs out towards the patio I see the steam coming off the cappuccino machine making the air hotter than it already is and I try to avoid walking past it.

Thandi waves at me from behind the counter and I see she is already busy serving some customers who have loaded the jars of homemade jams and fudge next to her cash register. Jabu and Themba walk around the tables trying to keep up with the food orders. I know Kobus is in the kitchen creating beautiful plates filled with delicious food whilst waiting to be carried out to his patrons.

I must remember to buy some chocolate lamingtons coated in a snow of coconut flakes for Cathy, a treat for her, when I pick her up from school today. Lost in thought, I am unaware of the pair of eyes watching me as I make my way through the shop. I fail to register who the person is sitting next Adriaan because Ascot the sheep dog, is trying to jump up on me and lick my hands.

“Down, Ascot!” shouts Adriaan and immediately Ascot tries to herd me to the table like I am a sheep needing to be directed to his master. As I approach the table where Mr and Mrs Fink are waiting for me, I try to unload my files and pull out the chair simultaneously. Finally I settle down on the chair and look up into a familiar face.

“Skye, this is my step-son Nicholas, he will be staying here with his family and help us to manage the farm,” says Adriaan, introducing me to the man that had fired me a year ago.